Till Death Do Us No Part
by fahtKAHT
Summary: He's dead. He's not. I love him. You shouldn't love dead people, thats a sure fire way to heartbreak. This coming from someone who says I'm insane. You love dead people, it speaks for itself. Sasuke x Naruto /x Gaara/ . UNDER REVIEWING. SNEAK PEEK INSIDE.
1. Zero, Epitome

_Till death do us part_

* * *

1. Epitome

Gaara was special to Naruto. Gaara was with him through thick and thin. Gaara was there for him. Gaara never left him alone, ever. But these people, dressed in blinding white clothing, smelling like something pulled out of a sanitizer pack, they were all telling him that Gaara was gone, and that he would never be coming back. Ever. Lies, they were all lies. Because He and Gaara were one- one of a kind. Him and Gaara, were all each of them had, and no one else. He loved Gaara with all his heart. He was born for Gaara, he breathed; lived; existed for Gaara… He would die, for Gaara.

Because Gaara was his only special person, Gaara was the only one that understood. Gaara didn't look at him as an abomination, Gaara looked at him with pure adoration, pure joy, pure acceptance… pure, innocent, unstained love of the deepest- most wonderful, most meaningful kind.

He loved Gaara with all his heart and soul, and Gaara loved him the same. So Gaara would never leave him, in fact, Gaara was sitting in front of him, right now, glowing that ethereal glow he always had around him. Gaara was beautiful, they were meant to be. Gaara lived, he shone, he was as bright as a starry night sky. So he held Gaara's hand, and Gaara squeezed tight in return, and they both just sat there talking sweet nonsense just to fill up the empty airspace with the sound of the other comforting voice. Because that's what love was to him. Finding the most lovely, fascinating things in you precious person, and to him, Gaara was the epitome of love.

That was captivating enough.

* * *

_Another spur of the moment idea. Sigh._


	2. One, Subject

_Till death do us no part_

* * *

1. Subject 

It was such a strange sight to behold, the way his blond hair and orange clothes (which I have yet to enquire as to where he received the offending piece of apparel) stood out like a beam amongst the dreary grey washed walls of the room. Another interesting factor of this subject is that his hands are stretched across the table, in a manner as if he was actually clasping something three-dimensional, it was strange- how the way his hands were cupped and positioned… how I could immediately envision another hand holding him back. It's as if, in that curious mind of his, the brain is actually sensing something. That, or he is one damn talented mime artist, which I highly doubt to the point of _not a chance._ I see his lips moving, and his head cocking from side to side, even jerking backwards as if surprised from time to time. His eyes shone, with a twinkle of utter… devotion? And he seemed consumed about whatever topic he was discussing. "Ms. Ino, audio." I mumbled, and the hay-haired nurse pressed a button or two mounted on a box on the wall, and the sound of an annoying yet disgustingly sincere voice wafted through the air in the form of quivering sound-waves and flowed into my ears.

"Gaara-san, I honestly don't get why you don't like your brother and sister! Seriously, Kankurou is funny and Temari is such a cool chick! I would kill for siblings like yours… or, family." The sentence started off with a miffed edge to it and ended in a somber tone… right. I took&opened the manila folder labeled _Naruto Uzumaki _and wrote down the names _Kankurou, Temari _and _Gaara _emphasized through underlines and a large circle. I also wrote _family._ In that time, silence filled the void of Naruto's voice, the range of emotions coming and going, etching onto his face and changing in a snap astounded me- he must have alarmingly strong and well-trained facial muscles. Each expression defined exactly what Naruto felt about what… this _Gaara _was saying. Annoyance, frustration, impatience a hint of understanding and then… a sad, yet accepting face. The face you would see one wipe on like a mask at funerals, the face that clearly exhumed the fact that _I know I have to move on, I don't want to, but I will_ or the _it's just the ways things are, we can't change it _look. It was heartbreaking, Ino's self-proclaimed 'cute-radar' spiked. "But you knew, I knew, we both knew it wouldn't have been easy for us, it's still isn't. Your family forbidding you, me having to stay here for _god-knows-what _reason. We both knew, the world would be against us, our love, but it's not your family's fault. It's just that… society's perception of acceptable love is different to ours, that's all." The subject sighed, and nervously scratched the back of his head, moving down to his nape before crossing his arms and leaning back into the chair. _Scratching back of head and nape- nervous habit?_ That thought was quickly etched into the notepad.

Suddenly, the subject's attention was diverted to the small wristwatch adorning his surprisingly tan arm. I looked at my own, almost translucent hand in disdain; I could go outdoors into the sunlight for as long as a week straight and wouldn't have a tan as spectacular as the subject's. "Oh look, Gaara, it's time for lunch." A wide grin slipped instantaneously on scarred cheeks, before melting into a playful pout, "But ramen is the best food there ever is and ever will be! Nothing can compare…" the subject's voice stopped there, as if another entity was interrupting his tirade, "Ramen _is so _nutritionally adequate!" He seemed to use words that the other person he was talking to had, yet he didn't understand their meaning. _Amusing, _was the first thought that ran through my mind. I scribbled on my notepad once again.

_Subject likes ramen to an obsessive extent._

* * *

The soothing aroma of rich, roasted coffee beans wafted in my nostrils and I let the scent wash away all pressures, just for a second. Gloria Jeans was strange, like that. However, the time being only three o'clock in the afternoon meant there was still work to be done, inwardly sighing, I flipped the cover of yet another folder which was the case file of my current subject. Naruto Uzumaki was the subject's birth name, apparently he was nineteen years of age, though I thought, based upon his looks and rather immature attitude and tone, he would be seventeen- at most. I skipped through the basic file heads such as date of birth, nationality… those weren't important, just impersonal details that were pinned to every medical record. I scanned the rest of the subjects, rather boring life story until the age of seven years old, where things took a drastic change. Apparently, before the age of seven, the subject lead a boring life, expected of that of a young child. He went to school, had less than average grades, made some friends- not an exceptional lot, played in the park after school and on Saturdays, and had a mother and father. Until the age of seen where his life turned at an unfortunate corner. Not much specifics were detailed except the fact that the Uzumaki's disowned Naruto and sent him to an orphanage. I personally did not know that this was even legal. The orphanage on seventh took him in, and then, _that _name suddenly pops up, yet again. _Gaara._ As soon as the subject is disowned and arrives at the orphanage, a boy called Gaara of the Desert was suddenly the main focus of the seven years, seven months, seven days old subject. It was a strange date to have your life be flipped unceremoniously. But life was always a bipolar bitch. The subject then spouted off about this Gaara of the Desert twenty-four-seven, showing signs of admiration and love for the boy… strangely enough, no one else ever saw Gaara.

I scanned some other boring information, yet of course, I noted the unanimous amount of times the name Gaara was printed on the page. _Gaara, he must be a very significant component of this subject's life._ Then, by the time the subject was fifteen years and five months old, he suddenly went into a massive decline and suffered severe clinical depression, he self-mutilated through the forms of cutting and once, as recorded, he even tried to claw his own stomach out? I shook my head. He was seen crying twenty-four seven and was reported to be always mumbling or whispering and occasionally even shouting pleads of sorry and asking for forgiveness… from his so called Gaara, by this time, Naruto was transferred out of his orphanage, where he stayed since no family could stand their foster son and his precious Gaara, and plopped into a holding cell for his own safety. His major depression apparently continued until a day after he turned sixteen, where he was as jovial and cheerful before he was fifteen years, and five months old. He then, started to smile, the self-mutilations ceased to an absolute immediate and then, he started to talk to Gaara. So he wasn't discharged as planned, he was kept in, even to this day- not a singly day pass outside the Clinic, because the subject talks to someone, that isn't there.

He talks to someone that doesn't exist. The subject acts ad if he was there, his arm sometimes hanging stiffly yet strangely seeming comfortable in the air, as if said offending arm was draped along someone's… most probably, Gaara's shoulder. He would hug thin air, making a hole between his arms, his fingertips barely brushing against each other, as if he was grasping someone with a lean yet wiry frame. He would ruffle imaginary hair, he would stumble slightly as if somebody punched him playfully on the shoulder… it was as if Gaara actually existed, but only the subject could see him and no one else. The idea gave me the shivers, and for a moment I thought it possible… but no one was invisible, magic didn't exist, it was just some sort of mental disease similar to schizophrenia only elevated to a more intense, almost physical, three dimensional level.

I calmly closed the file and got up from my chair, grabbed my blazer and swiftly slid into it before grasping my large cardboard glass of decaf. Opening the door, greeting the blushing nurses and the smug old coots called doctors with my usual indifferent if not sarcastic air, I stepped out to the courtyard where the bitter, crisp yet mildly harsh winds of the season slammed my frame and slapped my face into a cold chill, my hand wrapped around the quickly refrigerating, half consumed decaf as I tried to suck the last ounce of warmth from the beverage. I sighed, blowing a small puff of cloud in front of my face and walked to the train station, five blocks away. The decaying brown leaves crumpling and falling apart at my every step, setting my gaze onto the picturesque lane of almost barren trees- is focused on the few leaves left attached on to the clammy grey fingers of the tree trunks, and watched as yet another fell slowly, onto the ground in front of me. It was almost the end of the vibrant, fiery colours of autumn, signaling the unwelcome arrival of the hard, grey snow- similar to gravel, that winter took with it.

For these leaves, every year, death was imminent, yet every six months, they come back, as fresh and lively as ever. I feel sorry, that they have to relive the sad cycle of life that often.

* * *

"Wow, Gaara… look at that guy, over there, walking in the lane of trees. He looks so sad, so beat down and alone. Gaara, he reminds me of you, the first time we met!"

* * *

_Quick update for you guys. This is just me running with the flow._

_Hope Nothing disturbs said inspirational stream._

_cx_

_Second chapter half way done_

_Hope you like_


	3. Two, Impressions

* * *

2. Impressions

"Oh, my, _gosh! _" was the first words that came out of my mouth when I saw him enter. I heard Sakura-san saying that there was a new and very young (eye-candy material) scholar interning at the Clinic, and I was freaking stoked to see he was the one who was in charge of me! I chuckled inwardly, amused. That's, like, the fourth shrink I've been assigned to in almost as many months! What's that Gaara? Well, of course I would be proud of myself! It means that Naruto Uzumaki is truly the mysterious, blue-eyed, wonderfully hot… wonder. I grinned, and Gaara just shook his head and jerked his beautiful aquamarine eyes to the new shrink who was standing in the door way, looking at me with a blank expression. Jack ass, what a nice start to build a friendly trusting relationship. Gaara rolled his eyes. I stood up abruptly, sending the chair skidding back wards, screeching against the cold floor. "Hey! You're my new psych! What's up, doc!" I laughed at my own crack. I saw Gaara resisting the urge to slap his forehead, "what? Gaara! You're so mean." The dudes eyes widened just a fraction as he started scribbling on his leather bound book. "Ugh!" My lips curled in contempt, "You've got a _Moleskin _as well? Is that, like, psychologist issue crap? Do all of you have to have the same damn, over-priced brand of leather covered paper, glued together?" I exclaimed exasperatedly, complete with arm movements. Gaara just looked at the ceiling. Mister quiet turned around to shut the door, and that's when we both had an epiphany. Gaara's eyes met mine, (Oh, I fell in love yet again.) and we nodded our agreement. "Oh, my, _gosh! _You're that guy that was emo-ing it up in the courtyard yesterday at five! Oh yeah! You're the dude that reminds me of Gaara." I saw him stiffen immediately, ha! So this jerk knows about Gaara too.

Gaara and I both hate the fact that _my _life has been _typed _up and printed for everyone's reading pleasure! Excuse me, if I'm the only one that thinks that my life is private and should only be privy to me, but that's the way I roll. Unnecessarily re-arranging his tie, nervous habit- perhaps, the guy sat down on the most uncomfortable abomination made to mankind called the metal chair, opposite mine and looked at me. Ouch, hard- calculating eyes. Apparently, this guy skipped the part of the lecture at university where it said, you must not intimidate your patient into to telling you, or else it'll be all lies. Well, whatever, the all have their techniques- I guess this one's just off the book. "Who is Gaara?" I was taken aback, and he could see my shocked reaction as he shuffled his position on the metal chair. This guy was really rude, he didn't even introduce himself… he didn't even ask my name! What a bastard- he was probably bludging psych 101 and smoking behind the toilets, and his rich ass father paid for his graduation certificate. Bastard. Gaara was growling, and I patted him on the shoulder and whispered calming words. "Don't worry, Gaara. I've dealt with this type before. We both have!" I could feel Sasuke mentally sneering at me, before he wrote furiously on his pad again.

"Do you mind?" the cocky dickhead asked, with a pissed air. Hey! That's no fair; _I _should be the one to be pissed. Hell, I shouldn't even answer his damn questions! Gaara just smirked and suggested another brilliant Gaara-idea. _You are so smart, Gaara! _He saluted me with a two fingered gesture in reply. "Mind what?" I told the anonymous I-shall-not-make-a-proper-first-impression sitting across from him. I heard the nasty sound of teeth grinding teeth. I always thought that hurt, and I couldn't for the life of me, understand why people did that… oh well. "Who, is Gaara." He demanded- rather than asked, only, slower this time. "Hey! I don't have a learning disorder you know!" I yelled back at him. "Don't treat me like an idiot! Bastard!" I seethed. Gaara put his hand on my shoulder, urging me to calm down, and in return, I placed my hand over his and took my seat. I could've sword I heard bastard mumble "dumbass." We glared at each other, promising inevitable pain and a fatal silence hung low and dense.

Gaara told me to get things moving because this psy-war wasn't going anywhere productive. _Fine! _I pouted, and bastard scribbled notes yet again. "Ha! You think you'll get the Gaara story that easy huh? Well, trust me, other shrinks- far more skilled than your sorry little ass quit before they got even remotely close to that topic, so you better start properly- make me comfortable around you, all that shrink stuff your supposed to go through before we get on to the hard-hitting serious shit, yeah?" Bastard looked at me wide eyed, his pen making an obvious _clink _as it collided with the metal table. "Well, your name would be a good re-start, or do you want me to call you bastard forever?"

He looked pointedly at the ground, before sighing dejectedly and facing me with those closed off black eyes. "My name is Sasuke, I'm twenty-four, and this session is over." He said in one breath before picking up the few things he came with, his _Moleskin _and _Parker _pen and slamming the door behind him. I just blinked and Gaara shrugged.

What a strange way to from a bond.

Gaara mumbled something incoherent, with a bit of a _but-you-still…_ kind of voice.

I smiled softly, he was right. He was a bastard; he was using a really weird way of _assessing the severity of my mental state_, but… I couldn't help but feel to want to get to know him better.

Even, be his friend?

* * *

"Naruto! How was your appointment?" Sakura asked kindly as she set down my tray of food. I shrugged non-commitedly, she sighed "You are going to get me fired one day, Uzumaki." Before placing a take-away paper bag of Ichiraku's Ramen and a Grande size Gloria Jeans on my table. I peered alongside Gaara, into the white, emblazoned bag. "Miso Ramen! My favourite, ngaw… Sakura! You do love me." She rolled her eyes jokingly as I ripped into the bag and grabbed the lidded bowl of fresh ramen, opening the plastic cover, my sense of smell was treated to a feast of Miso-ish aroma's and my stomach rumbled expectantly. "Well?" I looked up at her, with noodles dangling halfway from my mouth to the bowl, "Oh! The meeting, yeah… well I got a new dickhead of a shrink. He's quiet, he's rude, he makes me very uncomfortable, he doesn't introduce himself; he doesn't even wanna know me… I don't think." I ranted, sputtering out bits of chewed ramen. "… So, because of that- I have decided to make him follow protocol!" I grinned widely at her, before digging into my meal. She shook her head, "Did he tell you his name?" I tapped my chin, trying to remember the conversation, "all he said was my name is Sasuke, I'm twenty four, and this session is over'" I tried imitating his deep voice, only to see that Sakura found it comical… oh well, "and that was seven minutes after he stepped into the intero-room!" Sakura shifted on the chair that was next to my hospital bed and rubbed her chin. "What did this dickhead look like?" I heard the door ever so slightly open, with the tiniest of creaks, that Sakura didn't notice… but Gaara did so he told me, Gaara's trustworthy like that.

I smiled widely at her. "Look for yourself! He's right at the door." An intense, vermillion blush scrambled on Sakura's face faster than Gaara could say 'embarrassing' and she swiveled her head, as slow as snail to look upon Mister Dickhead Sasuke with his left brow high on his forehead. I thought only girls could raise their eyebrows like that. Ha ha ha ha! You're right Gaara, he is _practically _a girl! Gaara smirked before crossing his left leg over his right. Sakura's lips curled into a look of embarrassment, as she hung her head to hide her flaming face and excused herself out of Naruto's room, mumbling a silent "See you" before she slid past an indifferent Sasuke. Gaara and I looked at each other. _Bastard._

A silence that stood precariously on the line between comfortable and not quivered through the air until Mr. Bastard finally decided to break the quiet null, with what I describe only to be an absolutely _infuriating _"Hn". I heard Gaara grit his teeth _Yeah, I know aye Gaara. This guy sure has one limited vocabulary. _

Bastard dragged an armchair from the side of the room, right next to my bed, making that ear-splitting scraping screech along the way. I swear the bastard does that simply to get on my already frayed temperament. He took a graceful seat and looked at me square in the eye. Gaara shifted his position from the window-sill, now standing stiffly behind Bastards armchair, his nails gripping the backrest anxiously. I cocked my head to the side, yet Gaara simply replied with an intense gaze that dove into the deepest cavern of my soul.

"…do you know why you're here?" Was the first, dark, husky question that swam from the Bastards vocal chords into my ear drum. Gaara still had that soul-searching look aimed upon me. Quiet, this time, definitely on the stifling, uncomfortable silence side.

Shit.

"Not… Not really."

* * *

_Author Time: Did you miss me? I think not. Well, Im sorry for this ridiculous wait, but lemme tell you- this chapter was finsihed a week later than the first chapter was uploaded... its just that your favourite (not) lazy author is in middle school and is very... lazy. Not to mention that social responsibilities and keeping up appearances made it hard for her to deliver yet another absurdly obscure chapter. If my socializing somehow weakens then the next chapter will be up no later than two weeks. Holidays are coming up so... yeah. Thank god for the Australian middle school system of education. (Translation, year eight is such a bludge)_


	4. THREE, SPECIAL PREVIEW

**DO NOT IGNORE THIS; IT HAS JUICY STORY SPOILERS YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU MISSED OUT ON.**

_Dearest readers of TDDUNP,_

This fiction is dead. D-E-D. But thanks to a peek at my stats page, finding this was my most viewed fic, I have **decided to give it another go**. Basically it **will be remodeled**, but the storyline will stick to its guns. Thanks for you patience. It will _take some time_ however, since I have lost all interest in Naruto fanfics, and I am currently working on two major projects at the moment. Here's a **_sneak peek of the new TDDUNP_**, I do hope you'll find it more satisfactory;

* * *

...

He poured all his heart, all his soul, all his staining red blood for Gaara, as he knew Gaara would do the same. Gaara, would _always _be there. _For eternity, forever, for a day even longer. _Gaara was sitting in front of him right now in fact, glowing that ethereal aura that stalked him when he sat, walked, slept, shrunk…

Gaara was beautiful, aquamarine eyes, insomniac circles, pallid dead skin, and the softest, grayest lips. Gaara was perfect, and he was incomplete. They were meant to be. So he clawed at Gaara's hand, and Gaara pierced his skin in return, with untamed nails- and they both just sat there, in the choking white rooms, surrounded by choking white furnishings- linen- tiles and walls, and talked colorful, sweet nonsense to fill the empty void, the white hole that would disgrace any black hole...

* * *

_Hoping to peak your interest._

**Review me this** Note and tell me what you think- please, it might get me more motivation to abandon all my other commitments and work on this piece just a little quicker…


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